He’s got a coy grin on his face. Fran just grins right back.
“We might be scheming to get Rosalie kissed tonight. But it’s a secret, Lucca.”
“I can keep a secret. And,” he says, looking right at me, “I think a little kissing scheming is a great idea.”
“Just follow my lead. Okay?” Fran turns on her stool, hopping up before I can answer her back though.
“Um, okay,” I say, watching her walk away and not completely sure at what it is I’ve just agreed to.
“This is going to be fun, eh, Stella?” Lucca says.
“I honestly don’t know,” I tell him. I twist, looking behind us to where Fran has disappeared, rejoining our group.
Roman peers over at us, eyeing my Coke. He leans his pool stick against the table and skips over to the bar. “Lucca, I think Kelli’s wondering where you are.” He smacks his friend on the back.
“We can’t have that,” Lucca says, brows bouncing, before he skips back to the group.
“He’s a whole lot of talk,” Roman says, leaning against the bar, his eyes glued to mine.
“Sounds like something a friend would say.” I lift one brow, waiting for his response.
Roman only smirks. “Maybe.” He moves one hand to my back. “Excuse me, sir,” he says with a quick wave to the bartender. “I’m going to need this Coke split into two tulip glasses. Please add the glass to my bill as well.”
The man doesn’t question. He simply pulls two beautifully stemmed glasses with rounded bowl tops out from beneath the bar. He splits my Coke into both and slides them toward us. “I’ll adjust your tab.”
“Are you ready?” Roman says, a grin on his handsome face.
“Maybe. I’m not sure what this entails. I seem to be getting myself into a lot of sticky situations tonight.”
Roman beams, reaching for my hand and lacing each of his fingers through mine. My stomach flips watching his face light up with mischief. And every section of my skin sparks where his brushes mine.
Something is happening.
I stopped lying, started acknowledging feelings I have, and my body decided to turn into a live wire.
With both of my Cokes in his hands, he leads the way, past tables and stools. We walk by the pool tables, and he nods to the other Red Tails. “We’ll be right back.”
“Stella!” Fran barks, giving me a knowing glare. We are in cahoots with Lucca, that glare reminds me. Whatever it is I’ve agreed to, she won’t be letting me out of it.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell my new friend. “Promise!”
Roman and I slip out a back door and into an alley, a large green dumpster at our right, empty crates at our left. It’s not exactly a postcard view.
“Okay, we’re moving on,” Roman says, handing me one of the pretty tulip glasses. “What’s the first thing you’re getting over, Stella Everly?”
“Um.” I think. There are just so many to choose from … “Okay, losing my job.”
“That’s right. Your job, your house, and your award.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That last one is a little tough to get over.”
“You’ll make something else. Something better. You don’t need a committee to tell you you’re talented.”
“I might need a committee to tell me?—”
“Nope.” Roman shakes his head, shutting me up. “Hold that glass up. Repeat after me.”
A shaky breath falls from my chest. Why does this feel so scary? Why is saying goodbye to my failures so hard?
